International Waters
by Good Old Hoxton
Summary: Due to the Abyssal threat being eliminated everywhere except Japan, Earth's governments send every functioning Fleet Girl and Fleet Boy to the Naval District. However, the first generation of Fleet Boys soon realize just how far behind the girls they are. Follow a group of British Fleet Boys as they dish out classic firepower, and insults about other countries' naval shortcomings.
1. Antiquated Arrival

After turning the keys to his car into the position to disable the engine, Jack sat back for a moment, letting the rain patter against the windscreen as he sat in near-complete darkness of the nighttime car. His face was no longer illuminated by the lights of the dashboard, only partially lit by the warped orange glow of streetlights at the entrance to the Naval District ahead. In the seats behind him, there were the parts of his rig, all placed in a navy blue gym bag: Primarily, his eight inch guns, propulsion system, and bits of hull.

Next to him was Charlie. He didn't look too enthusiastic either. He sat back in a similar way. His rig was also on the seat behind, stored in a large orange tool bag. In the silence, Charlie leaned forward, and removed a cigarette from the packet sat on the dashboard. He placed it in his mouth, and after a few moments of fiddling with his lighter, the smell of tobacco in their Ford Falcon XB became more apparent. Jack didn't even raise a brow: Instead, he kept his Gosling-like gaze straight ahead at the dark, rainy street in front of the Naval District.

After a brief, barely audible crackle as he inhaled his cigarette, then an exhale, Charlie cleared his throat. "Do we really have to be here?" he asked. Jack didn't even nod, keeping his hands firmly in his coat pockets.

"Mm-hmm."

"Not too great, if you ask me. Just some shitty Naval District in some dullard country."

"I suppose you could say that."

"I just don't get it, y'know?" Charlie sighed, putting his feet onto the dashboard and reclining his seat slightly, folding his left arm under his right to support his cigarette hand. "Why send us all the way out here? Last I heard, Japan was doing fine with dealing with Abyssals. Well, until they said they wanted help a few weeks ago."

"Which is why we're here. To help." Charlie just scoffed at his friend's quietness.

"I don't get why you're like this, either. Every time we come to a new place like this, you do this."

"Because every time we've come to a place like this, we lost someone."

Charlie paused, and turned to face the front again, sighing.

"This used to be a full battlegroup. There's me, and there's you. There used to be the two of us, plus Amber, and James. Those two got sent away to other units, and considering how well they interact with new ships, they probably ended up decommissioned. We, on the other hand, have been lucky to survive until we were no longer needed in England." Jack explained, Charlie simply sighing and shaking his head as he looked out the window. "And it's important to remember that by today's standards, we're basically redundant. We still have to strap into our rigs by hand, and our 'cannons' are just modified rifles and pistols."

"Our shipyard didn't have the equipment to produce rigs like the ones everyone else uses," Charlie retorted. "And think about it: We have bayonets. Those other fleet kiddies don't get given that shit. Plus, we get pistols and rifles that shoot artillery shells, and we can beat enemies to death with them if they get too close. Those newer rigs come with guns built in that they can't use as weapons. You really saying we're redundant in spite of our...uh, 'design features'?"

"The fact we can smash teeth in with or guns isn't a design feature. By that logic, you could say a rolling pin is _designed_ for domestic abuse, or that a car is _designed_ for running over pedestrians. It's just something you _can_ do with it, and it's not necessarily recommended." Chaz let out a puff of smoke and rubbed his forehead.

"Suit yourself. I personally like the skullcrusher grip on my Webley. Adds a bit more _crak_ , you know?"

"I know. It's actually pretty funny. That's still not to say that we're up to date, just because we can violently attack an opponent with the stock of an Enfield. Me, you, Joe, and David have been the only ships in recent years to have non-rig-based handheld weaponry. Good for refitting, since they can just give us whatever, but not good for tactical use. They can be knocked out of our hands."

"Good for style, though. Plus, I hear that the US Navy still deploys some of their lads with guns like ours. What is it they use? Colt nineteen-elevens, switched from point forty five to four-and-a-half inch cannon shells _and_ fires at the speed of a forty-five semi-auto pistol?"

"And will that do anything to a Wo-class carrier?" Silence reigned in the car again. Charlie puffed his cigarette briefly, frowning. "I'd be surprised if it's even worth fitting bayonets to our rifles anymore. These Abyssals have been getting tougher recently."

"You don't know that. We drove here from Plymouth. Through England, over the Channel, and through Europe and Russia. Then we passed through China, and took a ferry to Japan. All in all, about a month of driving, mixed with...what, a day of being on the water? Slightly less?"

"I read the news when we stopped for fuel, Charlie. Countries were winning left and right. We're just being sent to this District because every other fleeter in the world is, too."

"And that means you just don't like being around people." Jack paused, still staring ahead.

"Basically. Hit the nail on the head, Chaz." 'Chaz' groaned, and reclined into his seat. He only really called him by the name Charlie when they argued.

"Lovely. Ray of sunshine, you are." Jack slowly turned his head to look at Chaz, a bored expression on his face.

"I'm gonna go get the gates opened." Without another word, Jack undid his seatbelt, and took a cigarette for himself from the packet. Withdrawing his own lighter, he set his tobacco fix smoking, and cast a glance to Chaz. "You coming along?" His fleetmate dismissed him with a hand and withdrew his mobile phone.

"Nah. Gonna give that German battleship a call."

"What? You got a Nazi's number? Was it that Bismarck bitch?"

"Yeah. She's everything Hitler loved, and reincarnated as a smoking hot German girl. Shame you're racist and don't like to get involved in other cultures."

"No, I just don't fraternize with pieces of shit born of a military that attacked Britain ," Jack snapped, shaking his head and opening the car door. Upon stepping out, he was greeted by rather rough winds and damned-near torrential rainfall. Shielding his face from the rain, he lifted his hood up, and shut his door, before moving to the back door to retrieve his rig bag. Slinging it over his back, he shut the door of the car, checked both ways, and crossed over the street to the brick archway with the gate.

Under an individual lamp, there was a small wooden shelter built into the brick wall, with an intercom buzzer built into it. Jack checked his watch. "Ten o'clock sharp," he murmured, stepping under the shelter and lowering his jacket's hood. "Perfect timing." After a hesitation, Jack pressed the silver button beneath the speaker for a second, released it, and waited. It took a moment, but finally, the speaker crackled into life.

" _Who is this? It's ten o' clock in the evening!_ " snapped a fierce woman's voice. Jack narrowed his eyes, and pressed the buzzer again.

"This is Jack London, I'm here on orders of the UN. Transferring from Plymouth Naval Base along with Charlie Sussex." After a pause, during which he could hear pages turning, the woman coughed.

" _Ah. I see. Forgive me for the rudeness. Certainly, enter. Make your way up to the Admiral's office, so we can talk further._ " Jack quickly pushed the button again.

"Appreciated. Oh, we do have a car. Is there somewhere we'll be able to park it?" Another pause.

" _I'd...suggest parking in the far right corner of the main square. We will find somewhere better for it tomorrow._ "

"Alright, cheers, lass. Speak to you in a moment." The second Jack let go of the intercom, he heard the gates begin grinding themselves open to his right. Obviously, nobody really entered the district. Everyone must have lived on site, day in, day out. Not like Plymouth, where they'd all head out to the town for a night out on weekends. Nevertheless, that wasn't his concern as he hopped back into the Falcon and turned it on, steering carefully through the gates.

"So, we got in?" Chaz asked, stubbing his cigarette on the dash. Jack nodded.

"No shit..." he murmured, glancing about to ensure he wasn't going to hit anything. "Woman answered. Thought it was a male Admiral here." Chsz shrugged, idly gazing out the window with his feet still on the dash and his arms folded.

"Maybe it's just someone answering in his place. Probably his Secretary or something."

"Secretary _Ship_ , now I think back. Sounded pretty pissed off over nothing."

"Ah, right. Anyway, where're we parking?"

"Main square. Far right corner."

"Oh, _fun_. We get to drag our rig bags all the way to the Admiral's office."

"You don't like walking?"

"You've known me since we were commissioned, Jack," Chaz retorted. "Course I don't fucking like walking. Especially not with rigs."

"Then be glad our rigs don't weigh much."

"You're just making smug comments now that we're in a new base, aren't you?"

"Well, get used to it, bitch."

 _ **Much cursing and marching through rain later...**_

The duo finally managed to reach the Admiral's office, but upon arrival, were instead greeted by the sight of someone they hadn't expected to see. Standing beside an empty mahogany desk was a black-haired woman with red eyes, shapely figure, and rather stern expression. She had her hands behind her back, chest puffed out, and was looking at the two men immediately upon their arrival. Instantly, Jack dropped his bag, and stood fully at attention, breaking out a salute. "Secretary Ship Nagato! Apologies for intruding, ma'am!" he said quickly, staring ahead. Chaz stood with his right hand still in his pocket, eyeing her up cautiously.

"You're the Secretary Ship, here?" he asked bluntly. "No offense, but I expected a bloke." The woman frowned at him, folding her arms. Jack lowered his salute, but still stood at attention. After a moment, Nagato sighed, and looked to Jack.

"...for goodness sake, at ease, you look like you're about to burst a vein." Hesitantly, Jack stopped standing rigid, and stood with his hands behind his back instead, legs spaced apart. He raised a hand. "Yes?" Nagato sighed.

"Do I have permission to slap my fleetmate for his disrespect?" Jack asked, prompting Chaz to shoot a glare down towards his companion. There was definitely a height difference between the two. Nagato frowned.

"I'd prefer keeping in-house violence to a minimum. It is also understandable that members of other Navies might not recognise me." She began to pace in front of the two soaking wet men, hands placed behind her back. "My name is Secretary Ship Nagato. You're welcome to refer to me as Miss Nagato. I aid the Admiral in carrying out his operations from this Naval District." After a pause, she looked at Jack and Chaz with her eerily crimson eyes, looking quite uncertain. "He never mentioned we were getting _male_ transfers in the upcoming transitions."

"Apparently Japan recently sent out a message globally mentioning that you still suffer from Abyssal attacks," Jack replied formally, "We were sent from Plymouth Naval Base to aid in replenishing the ships that were lost." Nagato raised her head in understanding.

"Of course...however, the upcoming transition requested heavy, modern ordnance. I do not understand why the Admiral would request fleet boys."

"Well, not like you're going to be disappointed. Every naval base in the world is sending their fleet boys and fleet girls. This place'll be bustling soon."

"It already is," Nagato replied firmly, "Yesterday alone, we took in several dozen German fleet girls, as well as most of America's fleet that they aren't keeping for display purposes."

"So why's it a big deal that two men have appeared, ma'am? I thought you would have already had a significant number of early-model fleeters arriving."

"And I thought the fleet boys were all removed from active service when fleet girls were created."

"Well, it turns out that the government wanted us for general use up and down the country. Dealing with illegal immigration and such like. Also that one time that some arsehole on a dinghy started threatening to hijack the Isle of Wight ferry, you remember that, Chaz?"

"Yeah, I remember that," Chaz nodded, hands in his pockets. "That was fun. We got to turn him into a big cloud of smoke."

"Hmm." There was a pause as Nagato assessed the two, walking around them. She was pretty goddamn tall. Easily six foot four. Chaz could actually look her in the eyes without having to look down. She stood in front of them, and locked eyes with Jack, almost glaring. "Tell me, Mr...London, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then tell me, Mr. London: With all the ships they send, why is it they bother to send two ships that are, from my understanding, outmoded? Rather than send someone more impressive, like Miss Belfast?" Chaz was about to step forward, but Jack just held him back slightly.

"I wasn't aware you knew about us, ma'am," he responded politely. "And Miss Belfast has served in our Navy for several years. I can only assume the government is keeping her for morale reasons, and because tourists like poking her."

"She does have significant tourism appeal..." Nagato mused, thumbing at her chin. Chaz raised a finger.

He began to speak, but was swiftly interrupted. "And stonking great ti-"

"Though, I assure you, if there is a male ship on this planet, I know of them. You two were created in Plymouth, correct? A facility which used original smithing techniques to produce rigs?"

"Yeah. What of it?" Chaz snapped.

Nagato smirked, and sat on the desk, crossing her legs and placing her chin onto her knuckles in a very assessing way. "Well, I was merely pointing out that by Japanese fleet girl standards, you two boys are...how shall I put this... _antiques_."

"And respectfully, I'd like to point out that by British Navy standards, and our standards, you fleet girls are a bunch of bloody pansies! Getting all your fancy accommodation and all that!" Chaz cut in. Jack firmly nodded in agreement.

"You modern fleet girls are lucky to have such nice equipment!" he barked, jabbing a finger at Nagato. She simply raised a brow with an unamused expression on her face. "Back in our day, we had to make do with what they issued! We didn't have any pop-up targets or fancy carrier ranges! We had sticks and a rock! Two sticks and a rock! And we had to _share_ the rock! That was our training! What you have done is sissified an entire fleet of battleships by giving them comfortable dwellings that _don't_ catch on fire for no discernable reason, and food that does not fight back whilst you try to eat it!"

"And most of all, we knew what we were fighting for!" he continued, making aggressive hand gestures to emphasize. Chaz shed a single tear, stood at attention, and placed his hand over his heart whilst Jack spoke, staring dead ahead. Nagato began frantically looking around for the source of the patriotic English music, and who the hell it was who brought a Union Jack flag into the room and was waving it behind Jack as he spoke. "We fought for Queen and country! There were no shipping lanes, there was no media image! We were men with big guns that blew things up, and by God, we did a damn fine job of blowing things up! We knew the risks, and if we went down, we went down fighting! And when one of us went down, the rest of us would blow up even more things in their memory! It was what we were trained to do, and what we _will_ do for the rest of our existences as warriors! As fleet boys! As _the_ fleet boys of the Royal British Navy!"

There was silence. The music stopped, and the flag disappeared. Chaz broke into a salute, and Jack pumped his fist with a 'Grrrr!' that usually accompanied a gruff Drill Sergeant praising his men. Nagato looked him in the eyes, once again wearing her unamused expression.

"It's quarter to eleven at night. I would keep it down, if I were you."

"Sorry." Jack said in an oddly proud way. Silence reigned again, and Chaz slowly faded out from the chorus of God Save the Queen. "So...what do we do now, ma'am?"

"I believe it would be best for you two to get to your assigned dormitory. It's somewhere in the new section of the district that was constructed for the arrival of the international fleets." Chaz frowned.

"Could you be more specific?"

Nagato simply shrugged.

"It's Mutsu's job to deal with the new arrivals. She's been pretty busy lately, considering the international fleet girl reserves being moved over to this one base. She said she must have dealt with at least seventy new arrivals yesterday." Jack rolled his wrist slightly, imagining the paperwork and wincing slightly.

"So...should we just sleep in our car and return tomorrow?" he asked. Nagato thought for a moment, and nodded.

"That seems to be the best course of action. Apologies for any inconvenience."

"No problem, we're used to sleeping in it anyway," Chaz replied.

"Alright. I might also request that you do not return to this room tomorrow. I will be in the war room all day with Mutsu, so you will likely find me there. Are we clear?" Jack and Chaz nodded, stood to attention, and saluted.

" _Yes ma'am!_ "

With that, the two turned, marched the three paces for a proper 'falling out', then walked normally and collected their bags from the floor. Following this, they made their way out of the Admiralty offices and down onto the main square to return to the car. On their way over, they could see another group of at least thirteen girls with bags walking to the Admiral's office. Chaz rubbed at his head. "She wasn't sodding joking that a lot of fleeters were arriving. This really is an international base now." Jack snorted.

"Who knows, maybe that fucking Nazi lass'll be here."

"Fuck you."


	2. International Rendezvous

The next morning, Chaz and Jack were put alongside at _least_ forty more fleeters on the parade square. None of them seemed to hold any regimental style: Seemed more like everyone just wore casual clothing when compared to Jack and Chaz, who were wearing their under-rig clothing. Jack had his usual green button-up shirt with a green shirt underneath, plus a pair of jeans, boots, and aviator sunglasses. Chaz was wearing a navy blue jacket, black shirt, black combat trousers, and brown work boots. Despite the semi-casual clothing, both had their Webley revolvers in holsters on their belts, and the Union Jack sewn onto their left sleeves.

However, Jack noticed that out of all of the forty-something other fleeters that were present, only he, Chaz, and about three or four others were male. Only six out of forty.

Thus, everyone around them was able to summon cannons on a whim, whilst Jack, Chaz, and the other fleet boys would have to reach for their tired old leather holsters, unbutton them, pull out their handguns, probably even have to put ammo in them, and _then_ they'd be ready. Most of the current generation fleet girls could already have a 41cm cannon aimed at them before they'd even registered it had kicked off.

Needless to say, Jack felt uncomfortable.

Plus, the lack of regimental ordering was pissing him off. He kept a negatively assessing facial expression on as he looked behind him at the huge clusterfuck of girls with their bags, all milling about giggling in their native languages. "No getting into order of seniority? No lines? Nobody forming ranks? Not even in bloody _platoons_?" he murmured, before shaking his head. "Oh, dear God, you fuckin' **amateurs**..." Chaz nudged him on the elbow. Like Jack, his taller friend was standing with his hands behind his back, at ease.

"Cut them some slack, they probably didn't get to sleep in proper beds last night," he said calmly, only slightly leaning over to speak to Jack but still looking dead ahead. "Plus, it's the first day, I'm pretty sure all they're doing is settling us in." He hesitated. "In fact, I'll ask one where they slept last night." Chaz leaned back, and tapped a brunette girl on the shoulder. On the shoulder of her oversized green coat, he saw a Russian flag. He didn't know Russian. Shit. Just speak in English, it'd all be fine. The girl turned around, and blinked up at Chaz.

"Da?" she responded calmly. The girl had to have been a destroyer of some description. Her small stature dictated it. Chaz cleared his throat.

"You...uh, you speak...English?" he asked. The girl nodded.

"Yes. Everyone does...I thought it was a requirement for this big move."

"Right...mind if I ask where you slept last night?" The girl looked quite surprised by the question.

"I-I-I...why are you asking?!" she stuttered, quickly growing flustered as her other Russian friends turned at the noise. Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead as the girls starting glaring at Chaz.

"Jesus Christ, you bloody idiot..." Jack muttered. The largest of the girls, a massive blonde easily reaching about six foot nine, narrowed her eyes at Chaz.

"What are you asking her?" she growled. "Leave her alone, creep." Chaz raised his hands defensively.

"H-Hey, cool it!" he said quickly. "I was just asking where she got to sleep last night! Why's that so much of a deal?" His explanation only served to piss the girls off even more, as they began to slowly encircle him. Seeing that this wasn't going to end well, Jack shook his head, picked up his two bags, and left Chaz at the mercy of what looked like the Lesbian Soviet Ship Mafia, without any further words to indicate he was leaving.

Once he left the danger zone, he began to pace around, looking at the array of fleeters. Amongst the crowd, he could see a couple of carriers, a high number of battleships, plus a few who looked small enough to be either cruisers or torpedo ships. A rather hardened crowd, too: Even some of the younger fleeters had a few burn marks or cuts here and there. Now that he looked at them...

...they didn't seem as bad as he first thought.

Nodding slightly in a somewhat approving way, he put his bags on the floor either side of him, reached into his trouser pocket, and pulled out his semi-empty packet of cigarettes. Gently, he thumbed the side of one of the cigarettes until the butt was peeking out from the top of the packet, before placing that into his mouth, pulling the packet away, and putting it into his pocket. Then, he withdrew his lighter, but hesitated before lighting it so that he could read its engraving like he usually did.

It was a Zippo-style flint and fuel lighter, given to every fleet boy by the Admiral when they entered active service. Of course, when he got it, they never thought he'd find a use for it. Sure, some fleeters decided to flog theirs, get a good few quid from some extravagant militaria collector in the States, but for some reason, Jack decided to keep his. And a good thing, too: As he progressed, he realised that the more battles he participated in, the more he needed something to keep him calm in the face of what was steadily becoming an overwhelmingly tough enemy.

He looked over it, almost contemplatively.

 _ **Never give up;**_

 _ **Never surrender;**_

 _ **Never retreat;**_

 _ **Don't leave 'til it's over!**_

It was solid advice. He would have to say it was solid, anyway: He'd lived by it his whole life. In the Royal Navy, retreating was _not_ one of your options.

Meanwhile, the other side of the lighter was the logo of the Royal Navy. Nothing too special. After reading the text over, he flicked the lighter's cap open and turned the wheel a couple of times to set a flame going. Once it was lit, he held it up to the tip of the cigarette that dangled from his mouth for a moment. The smoke, slowly but surely, began seeping from the end of the cigarette, and so he flicked his lighter shut and slipped it into his pocket, beginning to puff away at his latest tobacco fix.

A few fleet girls nearby looked at him in what appeared to be disgust, but he wasn't particularly bothered: Smoking was a fairly normal thing in the British forces, so judging by the reactions of others, he assumed it was prohibited in their navies or something of the like. Gently, he removed the cigarette from his mouth, and blew a waft of smoke upwards, still eyeing those around him. Clearly, there was distrust in them. Funnily enough, he felt the same way about them.

And what could he really do about it? Even if he wanted to start a fight, he and Chaz would _both_ get their arses kicked. They were only County-class Heavy Cruisers; Most of the Russian and American fleet girls were fully-armed Battleships.

Sighing, he put the cigarette back into his mouth and was about to sit down on his bag when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. "It's not good to smoke, you know," came female, Asian-sounding voice. He was surprised to hear a voice that immediately spoke English, so Jack was immediately prompted to turn around and face the new voice.

When he came about, he was greeted by sight of a rather attractive woman, either his age or slightly older, with brown hair and warm features surrounding soft green-gold eyes. She was wearing the same uniform that Secretary Ship Nagato was wearing, so that meant...oh, _DAMN!_

Jack was quick to begin bracing up and prepare to let his cigarette drop from between his lips, but was quickly stopped as the woman raised both her hands. "Oh my, oh my, don't panic, this can remain informal," she laughed. "My name is Mutsu, I assist Secretary Ship Nagato with important matters." Jack swallowed, and turned his head to exhale. Then, he looked back at her.

"So...why pick me out to speak to?" he asked, raising a brow behind his sunglasses. Mutsu just smiled, and held her hands behind her back. She was just about exactly his height. Surprising.

"Well, you just happened to be closest to the edge of the group," she said calmly. "Also, Secretary Ship Nagato said that she spoke to two English fleet boys last night." Momentarily, she looked slightly troubled. "Sorry I wasn't around for that." Jack dismissed her with a hand.

"It's fine, ma'am," he replied, "It's really our fault for showing up so late. Regardless...what's all this about? Are you showing us to-?"

"Your accommodation? Yes." Mutsu offered a genuine smile. "Although, considering that many of you newcomers are rather tall in comparison to myself, would you mind helping me with something?" Jack hesitated, and looked at her.

"Listen...we've just met. I suggest you really think over what you're going to ask me to do," he explained carefully, narrowing his eyes. Mutsu grinned, and scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

"Oh my...well..."

 _ **A moment later...**_

"Uh, attention, everyone!"

All voices in the area quickly quietened down, and the Russian fleet girls stopped holding Chaz in a headlock as everyone cast their gazes over to the woman looking down on all of them. Many of those at the back were amazed that such a colossal warship would come along to speak with them, though everyone at the front just looked at her in confusion. Momentarily, Mutsu wobbled with a slightly terrified look on her face, before setting her balance straight. "My name is Mutsu, I'll be guiding you to your dormitories _oh my, hold still, please!_ "

Again, Mutsu teetered dangerously.

"Fuck's sake, you try bloody well balancing someone equal to your weight on your shoulders!" Jack retorted, steadying himself with his legs and being careful not to accidentally drop his...uh, 'companion'. The other fleet girls and boys assembled just stared at them in utmost confusion. Jack had his hands gripped onto Mutsu's thighs due to her positioning on his shoulders, so her squirming wasn't making things easier. "Christ's sakes, hold still!"

"I'm trying..." muttered his superior officer, flushing slightly red in frustration, before looking back up at the crowd gathered. "I-If you could all grab your bags and rendezvous at the crossroads behind me, that'd be much appreciated!" Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd for a moment, and after some milling about, everyone fumbled for their bags and began to slowly shuffle past the leaning tower of LonSu in a multi-cultural mass.

It took a moment, but they were gone, leaving Mutsu still sitting on Jack's shoulders and holding his head with her palms as she almost curiously watched the crowd move past. Jack, feeling that she had a fairly good grip on his rather nice hair, let go of her thighs and put his hands in his pockets, still puffing his cigarette. "Bloody lot of fleeters..." he whistled, eyeing over the huge group. "And this is just _one_ day's arrivals?" The girl on his shoulders leaned forwards, putting her folded arms onto the front of his head and most likely inadvertently pushing her ample chest against the back of his head. Jack remained indifferent.

"Mmm." she replied thoughtfully. "Though I might correct you and say it's a _quiet_ _morning's_ arrivals. Normally, I've been dealing with over a hundred new arrivals each day, for the past month." Her carrier's jaw dropped slightly.

"Bloody hell! You _alone_?" he gasped. Mutsu sighed, and nodded, resting her head onto her folded arms.

"Yes." There was another moment of silence.

"You...uh, you want a coffee or something? I could go get it, you sound like you're bloody well shattered," Jack suggested. He hadn't felt genuinely concerned about anyone else for a long while. Mutsu just shook her head.

"I couldn't ask that of you: You've only just arrived, and I'm already sat on your shoulders." She raised her head slightly, frowning. "Speaking of which...how are you able to support my weight?" Jack raised a brow, putting his cigarette between his index and middle finger and removing the cigarette, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.

"What of it?" he asked.

"Well, you _are_ only a Heavy Cruiser. I should weigh three times as much as you." Jack thought for a moment, then casually shrugged his head.

"Fair enough. Would it help if I just pretend I used to spend most of my NAAFI break in the gym?" Mutsu sighed, and sat up.

"That explanation will be enough. Now...could you put me down, please?"

 _ **A couple of minutes later, once Jack had untangled his head from between Mutsu's legs...**_

"Hello!" Mutsu greeted cheerfully, offering a wave to the crowd of new arrivals that had seemingly increased in size during her absence. Jack was following just behind her, propping up Chaz and making sure he didn't scream from the amount of bruises that the Russian fleet put on his legs. And looking at the crowd, he had to admit: Mutsu had it _rough._

What was once a crowd of around forty had just about _tripled_ in size. Whilst he was first incredibly surprised by this, he noticed that a considerable number of fleet girls were walking towards the group after exiting the ocean, their rigs disappearing in blue flashes as they approached and their bags slung onto their backs. ' _Right, so they sailed here,_ ' Jack thought, shifting slightly to better accommodate Chaz's weight. ' _Must be coming in from somewhere like China or Korea._ '

"Holy hell, this place got crowded quick," Chaz whistled, looking at the huge number of fleeters all happily engaging in conversation. "I wonder if word of you getting that girl to sit on your shoulders has spread yet." Jack paused, looked at Chaz and grinned.

"Well, she's lighter than you, you fat bastard," he said finally, before stepping out from beneath Chaz. His fellow ship let out a cry of surprise and pain as his legs gave out from beneath him, and Jack opted to spit the butt of his cigarette onto the floor in order to extinguish it under his foot. Chaz simply lay there on the floor, occasionally emitting whining noises. His 'saviour' simply shrugged. "Eh. Your fault."

"How is it my fault?!" Chaz whimpered. "You just dropped me, _and_ left me to get attacked by Soviets!"

"It's your fault for being shite at talking to women," Jack retorted, placing his bag down and rubbing his right shoulder. "Anyway, you're a Royal Navy ship, you've had worse. Get the fuck up, you bloody pansy." Chaz just whimpered.

"Now, for those of you who just arrived," Mutsu continued, now standing on top of a bollard to address the crowd, "My name is Mutsu, and I will be assisting you all in finding your new accommodation in this Port! Now, what I'd like to see is the Russian, Chinese, Korean, and African fleets over there;" Mutsu pointed to an area near the edge of the parade square, which prompted about fifty fleeters to begin making their way over there.

"Could I have the American, South American, Mexican, and Australian fleets over there?" She gestured to another area, which moved another forty people.

"And could I get the European fleets over there, and the British fleet over there, please?" She pointed to two different areas, and the remainder of the group split up; Twenty or thirty fleeters went to the European area, and Jack and Chaz awkwardly on their own to the signpost Mutsu had gestured to.

Naturally, the reaction of almost every other country's fleeters was to laugh at the fact that the British Navy only had two fleet boys, compared to everyone else who had a few fleet boys, plus a good few dozen fleet girls.

And naturally, Jack smiled back at all of them, thinking of all their naval disasters and how he could insult them. He nudged Chaz as the laughter died down. "Look at those bloody Yanks," he said, eyeing the American fleet girls that were now standing around and talking to the Australian fleet. "Look at them, and remember that they still cry over Pearl Harbour."

Chaz sniggered, rubbing his shin. "And look at the Aussies," he added. "Pretty sure I saw most of the those ladies wandering about Plymouth, at one point."

"Yeah, Plymouth did manufacture prison ships at one point." Chaz just paused, and grinned, closing his eyes as he leaned back to take in the sheer majesty of the pun.

"Fuuuuuuck..." he exhaled. "Turn on the heating, that shit was fucking cold." Jack bowed his head slightly, smirking and keeping his hands in his pockets.

"I do try my best," he replied casually, watching as Mutsu guided away the Eastern fleets. The two enjoyed leisurely conversation for a good hour before Mutsu finally returned, collecting the American and Australian fleets, and walking down another street. Another hour passed, and she collected the European fleets.

And, after a considerably lengthier period of time, Mutsu returned alone to collect the two British fleet boys. Both had resorted to sitting on their suitcases and smoking next to the sign, making them look as if they were awaiting public transport and garnering disgusted looks from those who went past.

Smoking? Really? Those fleet boys really are old fashioned.

With her hands clasped in front of her, Nagato's closest friend made her way towards the two, who were occupied with staring ahead. There was a clear difference between the two; Next to Chaz, there was around two cigarette butts stubbed on the floor, one of them still smoking slightly. His mouth was empty. He must have just finished. Next to Jack's foot, there was around six or seven cigarette butts. Mutsu eyed this with worry. ' _He's gonna have engine problems,'_ she thought grimly. Nevertheless, she kept a smile on her face, because that was just how she was.

"And we're down to the last two," she said cheerfully. "Sorry for keeping you both waiting, but you couldn't exactly go with everyone else since the British fleet is getting an entire section of the port." Jack just raised a thumb towards her, still staring ahead with smoke trickling from a half-finished cigarette that hung limply from his mouth.

"Uh-huh," he muttered. "Did they say when the other lads and ladies from our country would be showing up?" Mutsu shook her head after thinking for a moment. Jack sighed, and stood himself up, Chaz slipping his phone away and following suit not long after. By that time, the sun was starting to set due to the winter season, so the whole area was bathed in a warm orange glow. "Well, that's bloody annoying," continued the green-shirted fleet boy, beginning to follow along just behind Mutsu with his bags in hand. "I'd prefer to be around fleeters from home if I'll be near fleeters from other countries for a long time."

Mutsu frowned. "You seem to be successful in speaking with Japanese ships like myself and Secretary Ship Nagato," she noted. "Is it simply because you do not like being outnumbered?" Chaz scoffed.

"Nah, it's because he's just incredibly racist for no reason." Jack shot him a glare.

"Oh, pardon me for not liking some Nazi bitch who happened to have had a hand in sinking the Hood in a previous life," he retorted sharply. "And remind me that if we ever meet that Akagi lass, I need to tell her that she did good at Pearl Harbour. Cut those smug American twats down to size." There was silence between the three, and Chaz glanced down at Mutsu.

"See, I told you."


	3. Counterparts

"Pretty accurate recreation..." Chaz whistled upon entering the British segment of the recently expanded Naval District. The area was two streets, both about fifty to a hundred meters long, with cobbled roads and red brick houses along both sides, making it very reminiscent of your average British street. Each building had no lawn, two floors, and a pavement in front, sparsely decorated by lampposts. In the middle row of houses, there was a gap to allow for a road, with a café positioned at one end. To their left, there was also a pub, called "The Drunken Sailor". Mutsu smiled at his comment.

"From what I hear, the Admiral was excited to be hosting the European and British fleets, and wanted to ensure you all felt at home at the Naval District," explained the brunette, "Thus, he applied for a grant to have more building funds for this section of the district, and the European segment." She frowned for a moment. "The architect must have spent three whole evenings watching British television whilst he tried to figure out what a British street looked like." Jack shrugged.

"Looks pretty much exactly like it did back home," he said calmly. "Even down to the café looking like it runs on a budget of fifty quid a day." Chaz nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, and the houses look just as depressing as they did back home," he noted. Mutsu tilted her head.

"So...you don't like it?" she asked. She looked genuinely saddened. Jack stepped in, raising a dismissive hand.

"Nah, I love it," he said quickly, grinning as Mutsu's expression changed from sad to confused, "It's part of the reason I wanted to stay in England, because I didn't want to have to sleep on one of those fucking fu...foo...fooooooo...t..." He struggled over the words, then stopped for a moment and looked at Chaz. "Chaz, what are th-"

"Futons," his companion said flatly. Jack raised a thumb.

"That's the one. Didn't want to sleep on one of those, it'd fuck my back up summat fierce." Mutsu slowly nodded, before bringing the trio to a stop in front of the house at the end of the street. Next to the building, which was house number 49, there was a railing, and a set of steps that went down to the beach in near the sheer drop at the end of street. From the moss that was halfway up the steps, they probably had it there for rapid deployment at high tide.

Mutsu fished in her pocket for a moment, before withdrawing a pair of keys, offering them to Jack, who promptly accepted them. "Here's the keys. I think there's food that was put in the kitchen, but I remember it only being enough for your dinner this evening. You'll need to head to the District's stores tomorrow to get some more." Jack nodded, looking at the house and thinking of the weird Japanese shit he was going to have to eat, before his mind went back to the absolute love of his life. He looked back at Mutsu.

"Can I park Annabelle on this street?" he asked. "I can't stand the thought of her being touched by one of those American arsefaces." Mutsu raised a brow.

"Who's...Annabe-?"

"His car." Chaz interjected. "He's besotted with it. It's actually rather unhealthy."

"I don't have a problem with it. Just be certain you can get it out again," Mutsu replied, blowing some hair from the side of her face. "Also, if you want to leave the District for any reason, you'll need to put in a request for time off from the Admiral, and bring your rigs with you." Chaz raised a hand.

"I thought we'd get arrested for carrying our equipment with us," he said calmly. Mutsu tilted her head, folding her arms.

"Oh my, whatever do you mean?"

"Gun laws are fucking _mad_ serious over here, if I remember rightly," Jack explained, hands in his pockets. "And considering that part of a Fleet Boy's rig is his gun; Well! That won't go down well, especially considering that Fleet Boys are technically out of active service." Mutsu waved a dismissive hand.

"It'll be fine. You two go and have a good evening." With that, she smiled, and turned to walk back out of the street, humming to herself. Jack and Chaz simply watched her walking away for a moment, the sound of the ocean behind them. By then, the sun was nearly down, so the whole area was basked in a warm orange light.

"Pretty warm," Chaz noted.

"Mmm," Jack grunted. "Let's get inside. I'm bloody hungry."

"Don't need to tell me twice." The two Cruisers picked up their bags, and moved to the door. Jack took the keys, unlocking the heavy door bolt, and then pushing it open with his knee. Inside, it was exactly like your average London home; A thin entry hallway, a set of stairs right in front of the door, and a kitchen at the end of the hall. To the right, there was a living room, and just beyond that was a dining room of some description. The kitchen had a back door that Chaz assumed led into an alleyway between the two streets. After dumping their bags by the door, they both headed straight for the kitchen.

On the table was a medium sized bag, containing some frozen battered fish, a bag of chips, and a two litre bottle of Irn Bru. Jack squealed with delight upon seeing it. "FUCK YES, IRN BRU!" he cried, picking up the bottle instantly and placing it into the fridge after hugging it. Chaz was taken aback at the outburst.

"Holy hell, you like that stuff?"

"Fucking LOVE IT," Jack replied, pointing a finger at his fellow ship as he closed the fridge door. "It's the best thing to come out of Scotland since the loud cries of angry Scots at their failed bid for independence. And _that_ , Chaz, takes some beating." Chaz just shrugged, removing the chips and fish from the bag and reading the packaging.

"Personally, I'm not the biggest fan..." he muttered. "Right, says we cook the fish for twenty five to thirty minutes, and the chips we cook for twenty five minutes." Jack grunted an 'uh-huh' as he went through cupboards to find a baking tray, and the oven instructions.

"Then we cook both for twenty seven and a half," he said firmly, withdrawing a black metal tray and placing it on the table. "Put 'em on there, I'll find the oven instructions." Chaz nodded, and opened the packaging. Meanwhile, Jack started rifling through drawers for a moment.

Finally, he let out a gasp. "Haha!" he grinned, withdrawing a small white booklet. "That's the bloody one." He flicked it open, and began looking it over. A frown went over his face. "Oi, Chaz. You can read nip-nong, right?"

"You mean Kanji?" Chaz replied. Jack nodded.

"Yeah, that. You can read that shit, right?"

"Yeah. Why, is it all in Japanese?" Slowly, Jack nodded.

"Yeah. Figure the oven out, would you? I'm gonna go grab Annabelle from where I left her." Chaz was handed the instructions for the oven, and before he could protest, Jack was out the door. He was left in the house on his own.

Also, Jack had left the house keys on the table.

"Pillock," Chaz muttered, beginning to eye over the lettering. "Turn second right dial to two o' clock...then push in." He did as instructed, moving over the kitchen and reaching towards the white plastic dial. After some resistance, he was able to turn the knob and push it in. The results were instant; The oven made a loud click as the fans kicked in at the back, and the orange light turned on. Continuing, Chaz looked at the booklet again. "Far right is temperature..." He immediately set it to 200°c, and then turned away. "There, oven's ready. I'll just leave it for a bi-"

There was a knock at the door.

Chaz froze, and looked down the hall. Sure enough, in the small glazed window at the top of the door, there was a black silhouette. Whoever it was, they were standing straight.

Jack had literally just left. And if it was Jack knocking on the door, he'd still be bashing it with his fist, probably also in the process of shooting the lock with his gun.

Thus, Chaz could safely determine that it was definitely wasn't Jack. Silently, he began to advance down the hall towards the front door, drawing his Webley to position it behind his back. Upon reaching the door, he reached forward and pulled the door open a crack to cautiously peek out.

Standing on the front porch was a blue-uniformed young woman with long, blonde hair and a wicker basket in her hands. She was almost curiously peeking through the crack in the door, and upon meeting Chaz's gaze with her own, she gave a large grin. "Hello, British sailing man!" she said cheerfully. _'Yep. Definitely a Jap.'_ "I just came by to be of checking that you are find the accommodation to be of liking?"

Chaz raised a brow, then slowly nodded. "Uh-huh...what's your name, sorry?" The woman looked momentarily surprised, then stood up straight, smiling once more.

"Many sorrys, where are of the manners of mine?" The woman bowed her head slightly. "I am Heavy Cruiser Atago! You can be of callings me by name Atago!"

Chaz rubbed his forehead, subtly slipping his Webley away as he opened the door. "Alright then...Atago," he began, "Besides checking in on us, what's with the basket?" The basket was shoved in his face, with Atago pulling back the cover on top.

"These are gifts of welcome I give to new Cruisers from countries of international!" beamed the blonde, Chaz cautiously looking down into the basket. Two bottles of Sake, and a Tanto knife, all neatly wrapped together in a bundle of straw. _Jesus fuck, she really did go all out._ Forcing a grin, he looked back up at her.

"Aw, thanks!" he said politely, accepting the basket. "Cruisers of the same class gotta watch out for each other, right?" Atago curtseyed, giggling, and now that the basket was out of the way...

Mother of God.

Her tits were goddamn enormous.

Her blue uniform looked to be in pain from trying to hold them in place, and as she bobbed on the spot, her ample chest bounced considerably. Now that was all Chaz could focus his eyes on. Fuck. Quickly, he shook his head clear. "A-Anyway, Atago..."

"Yes?"

"Where did you learn to speak English?" She smiled, and placed her hands in front of her, sandwiching her breasts and forcing them to bulge out slightly. Chaz swallowed from the effort required to not gaze at them in awe.

"I was teach of the language of English by Russian fleet cruiser of light variety," she explained, "She was of doing good job, I am think." Chaz rubbed his forehead, exhaling.

How could he put this inoffensively? "No offense, but...no, she did a shit job." Atago's smile dropped.

"What are of meaning, comrade?"

"Your sentences are jagged, not stitched together correctly, and generally grammatically incorrect. You have the pronunciation down to a tee, but your sentence structure's bad. Course, that's not your fault, since a student's only as good as their teacher, but still, it could do with work." Atago stared blankly at him, looking rather saddened for a moment.

"Oh." She looked around for a moment, then back at him. "Could you be of teachings me better English, Comrade Sue Sex?" Chaz nearly spat out his invisible tea.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say my name was?" Atago blinked.

"...you are not Comrade Sue Sex?"

"N-No."

"Oh. Then you are Comrade London?"

"No, but at least you pronounced his name correctly."

"I have to be of knowings how to be of say London, Comrade: Is place of the important in England Navy, no?"

"Not particularly. My name's Charlie, Charlie Sussex." Atago looked at him, then frowned.

"Soo...sux..." she repeated, quite carefully. "S...Soosex?" Chaz shrugged.

"Close enough. Anyway, cheers for the basket. Guarantee that Jack's gonna love the knife." The smile returned to the woman's face.

"Do not be of worryings, comrade!" she beamed. "I am of the givings glorious basket of goodness to all arrivals of new on district of fleet! Is part of my job!" Steadily, she turned, and began to depart down the pavement again. "I will be of the seeings you at later day, tovarisch?" Atago waved as she turned midway down the street. Chaz paused, then smiled, and waved back to her.

"Sure, sounds fine by me, Atago."

The girl smiled, then turned back after a final wave, beginning to practically skip down the empty road, no doubt to go and give another basket to someone else. After watching her depart for another few moments, Chaz turned around, and headed back inside, closing the door. "Lovely girl..." he said to himself, picking up his bag and beginning to march upstairs. "English is a bit shite, though."

He shrugged as he started up the stairs.

Maybe she was just a one-off.

 _ **Meanwhile, across the base...**_

Despite the rapidly setting sun and rapidly declining temperature, Jack still had both his sunglasses on, and his green shirt sleeves rolled up. The only thing he was really doing in order to keep warm was placing his hands into his pockets, fiddling with his keys as he went. In contrast to everyone else he had walked past wearing either traditional clothing from their country, or military uniforms, he was wearing what would probably count as casual clothes: Green shirt, jeans, boots, and a black shirt beneath. The only elements that weren't to be counted as casual _(Unless you live in a US State where open carry is legal)_ was the set of bandoliers over his chest, and the Webley revolver holster rig set onto his belt.

He could definitely feel some stares from a group of what he assumed were Australian fleet girls as he went past. Undoubtedly, most of them hadn't ever seen a fleet boy so casually flaunting a gun around. In fact, most of them probably hadn't _seen_ a gun before. Australian Naval forces had rules against their fleet boys carrying their sidearms at all times.

It made Jack glad to be in the Royal Navy.

Any fighter that doesn't carry a weapon at all times is incorrectly dressed.

Those thoughts aside, he kept a clear focus in his head: He needed to retrieve Annabelle from where she was parked in the parade square. She was the only thing that mattered to him. Shit, kill everyone at the district, he'd be quite annoyed. Blow up the district, he'd be rather upset.

But blow up _Annabelle_ , his first batch manufactured Ford Falcon XB GT Hardtop , with custom leather seats, supercharger poking from the bonnet, and aftermarket body kit parts?

That was YOUR fucking death wish.

Annabelle was London's life.

If anybody were to ask Chaz, he could probably confirm that he once caught Jack snuggled up next to Annabelle in a car park back at Plymouth, sleeping soundly and hugging the large blower that stuck up from the bonnet.

It was an almost disturbing relationship between genetically engineered anthropomorphic reincarnation of a military-grade Heavy Cruiser warship, and a car.

Though, it was as Jack approached that he felt a spike in his blood pressure. There, parked next to Annabelle, was a silver Audi R8. Surrounding the vehicle, there was a large group of German fleeters; One fleet boy, and the rest were fleet girls. He could hear German pop music blaring through the Audi's speakers, and the loud talking of the Germans in question.

He clenched his fists inside his pocket, frowned behind his sunglasses, and removed the keys from his pocket. As he approached, none of the Germans had noticed him, and he didn't care, because he wasn't looking for anything to do with them. He approached the two cars, closing in on Annabelle, and then calmly walked past the Germans. Their music continued playing, and their conversations continued without him even getting a sideways glance as he went to the driver's side of Annabelle. After giving her the once over, he was certain that they hadn't touched her, so he unlocked the door.

Just as he was getting into the vehicle, he heard a voice.

"Nice car."

Jack paused, and looked over to the other side of Annabelle. There, looking back at him, was the fleet boy that was with the Germans. The girls carried on talking, but the brown-haired lad had turned his attention to Jack. The Englishman hesitated before answering. "...uh, cheers." 'Nice car' wasn't his favourite conversation starter.

"Ford Falcon XB GT Hardtop," the German continued in his fairly noticeable accent, pacing up and down the side of Annabelle. "Likely a five-point-seven liter V8 Supercharger. Custom body panels. Looks to be recently restored, considering the condition." Jack looked at him.

"All correct, except the last point," he replied calmly. "Bought this back in 1974. First manufactured batch. Kept it maintained ever since." The German raised his eyebrows, folding his arms.

"I must say, that _is_ impressive."

"Thanks." Jack glanced over at the Audi next to his car. "Yours?"

"Ach, nein, I wish," smirked the German, looking back at the silver R8. "This is Frauleine Bismarck's car. She bought it last year and had it sent over here when the order for the mass transition was given."

"Hmm. Rather nice, gotta admit. Those're going for about forty grand each, right?"

"Yes, they are rather affordable when it comes to supercars." The German wiped at his brow. "Bismarck had been keeping her eye on one since they were released. I think this is her idea of a 'dream purchase'. It only cost her half of her annual salary, too." Jack raised his brows in surprise.

"Fucking hell, she's a big earner, then. Must be nice on a Officer's salary. How much're you paid?" The German stuffed his hands into his uniform pockets, and looked back at him in an almost skeptical way.

"Enough. Why?"

"Just curious, 's all." There was a pause between the two. "You got a name?" The German breathed in, before removing a hand from his pocket and extending it over the roof of Annabelle.

"My name is Wilhelm Berlin. Reincarnation of the SMS Berlin." Jack extended his own hand, and gripped Wilhelm's in a firm shake.

"My name's Jack London. Reincarnation of the HMS London." Both men narrowed their eyes at each other.

Then, they burst out laughing, slightly confusing the fleet girls nearby.

"There certainly is some irony here!" Wilhelm laughed. "Berlin and London! We share the names of the capitals of two formerly warring countries, and now we are enjoying a discussion about cars? What is the world coming to?"

"Funny how times change, ain't it?" Jack replied, leaning onto the roof of Annabelle with a smile. Wilhelm flashed a grin, and folded his arms.

"Yes...it rather is."

After a few more minutes of comparing Annabelle with a top-of-the-line German supercar, Jack bid his new friend goodbye, and lit Annabelle's engine with an almost angry roar. He honked the horn to move some of the German destroyer girls out of the way, then slowly drove away into the darkness.

In his mirrors, he was fairly certain he could see a certain blonde battleship sitting in the driver's seat of the Audi, observing him with a rather annoyed expression.

 _ **A few minutes later, back at the house...**_

The two British fleet boys didn't exactly speak much as they ate their fish and chips. A solid meal, for sure, but the silence mostly existed because of the lack of initiation. Neither Jack nor Chaz opted to speak, instead choosing to enjoy their meals in silence.

Finally, Chaz cleared his throat. "So, uh..." Jack turned his eyes up to look at his fleetmate.

"Aye?" Silence reigned again.

"...we, uh, we had a visitor earlier."

"Really?" Jack asked. Chaz nodded.

"Yeah. Some Japanese cruiser. Gave us that basket over there." He gestured over to the wicker basket that was sat on the kitchen counter, prompting Jack to glance over.

"Huh. Anything interesting in it?"

"Two bottles of that sake stuff, and a tanto knife." Jack raised his brows in approval, placing some more fish into his mouth and beginning to chew.

"Fair do," he mused. "I get-"

"You can have the knife, yeah. Not like you'd try the alcohol, you straight-edged bastard."

"Jog on. Anyway, was the Cruiser nice?"

"Yeah. Blonde, really friendly, absolutely _massive_ tits. Uniform looked like it was struggling to hold them in."

"Hot damn, sounds nice. You get her name?"

"She said her name was Atago. Proper broken English, though." Chaz hesitated, frowning in contemplation. "I wonder if I should teach English here." Jack just scoffed.

"They can learn it from someone else."

Chaz shrugged. "She got taught English by some Russian fleeter-"

He was interrupted by Jack slamming his fist on the table. "Fucking Commie bastards!" he yelled angrily, pointing at Chaz. "Right, fuck it: Tomorrow, you go out and apply for a job in teaching English." His partner was rather taken aback.

"What?!" he cried. "Why me, can't you do it?"

"You're welcome to call me in to help whenever you need it, but you better teach them how to never call anyone a fucking 'Tovarisch'."

"Then what're you gonna do?"

"Had an idea whilst talking with one of the Krauts when I was picking up Annabelle. We decided that when his car shows up, we'd do supply runs around the district and drop people off in the nearby city. Probably a good means of cash, plus I get to drive Annabelle." Chaz leaned back, and folded his arms.

"I guess you have a point."

"Indeed I do. People always want something moved, fleeters or objects."

"Then it's settled. I go for teaching-"

"-and I go for transit."

The two men grabbed their glasses of Irn Bru, and raised them up.

"Cheers to that," Chaz said flatly.

"Too fucking right," Jack grunted.

Their glasses tapped together.


	4. Settling In

The next morning, the two British fleet boys set out to fulfil the objectives they had set themselves the night before: After getting into Annabelle, Jack drove them both to the Admiral's office, in order to speak with someone about their plans. Outside the building, there was a large grouping of fleeters, all milling about and looking up at the Admiral's offices in wonder at its size. Slowly, they made their way around the road that circled the parade square in front of the Admiral's office, before gently pulling up in front of the steps. The crowd only gave them short glances, grumbling about Officers' pay and cars, before returning to their wanderings. Jack stepped out first, wearing one of his many sets of the clothes he normally wore for everything, and his sunglasses. Chaz was just wearing a light blue formal shirt, tucked into suit trousers, with a Royal Navy cap atop his head.

Immediately upon exiting the car, Jack pulled out a cigarette, earning a groan from Chaz. "Don't go lighting up now," he sighed, walking around the car to the steps leading towards the front door. "We need to head inside." Jack just made a 'pfft' noise, holding the cigarette in his mouth as he fished in his pockets for his lighter.

"Yeah?" he replied through his teeth. "We dunno if there's anyone there we can speak to. Or if this is the right place, for that matter." Chaz rolled his eyes, and folded his arms.

"We're not going to know that until we go in and ask."

"No, **we** won't know that until _**you**_ go in and ask," Jack replied casually, baring his teeth as he finally withdrew his lighter. "You think they're gonna take my request more seriously than they'll take yours? You chose to wear uniform today, you cheeky sod, so you can bloody well deal with the formalities. I'll wait out here. And don't take too long; We need to head over to the on-site store." Chaz stared at him in frustration, before groaning loudly and storming inside. Jack shook his head, holding the lighter to his cigarette. "Formally-dressed twat."

As he watched his comrade disappear into the building, he decided to look back over the parade square. Bismarck's Audi had moved from the corner, so that was something. Also, the clusters numbers of fleeters making their way over to the building indicated to Jack that the crowd yesterday was only the start of what was to come.

The naval district was gonna be _rammed_.

Muttering a few incoherent words, Jack removed the cigarette from between his lips and blew the smoke out, gently tapping the ashes from the tip onto the edge of his index finger whilst he leaned on Annabelle's bonnet. For a few minutes, he enjoyed his tobacco stick, waiting for Chaz to return from whatever he was doing. The sun beat down on Jack's neck like a grill, and eventually, he couldn't take anymore. Groaning, flicking his cigarette onto the floor and extinguishing with his foot, the fleet boy stood and whipped out his phone as he made his way back to the driver's side of Annabelle. After pressing a few buttons, he wrote Chaz a text message regarding his new plan. He could read it when his meeting was done.

" _jesus christ you autist imma gonna go buy shit from shop, stop bein so fuken slo holy shit fgt get gud walk home_ "

He read this over. Formal as ever. "Seems alright, that'll do," Jack muttered as he hit send, before slipping it away, getting into Annabelle's driver's seat, and turning the keys. As usual, he was met with the satisfying roar of a customized V8, and the envious stares of those around him as he pulled away.

He didn't get very far until he realized he was driving down a road full of oncoming fleeters, none of whom seemed to understand that, because he was driving a two ton piece of nitro-fuelled steel and glass, he had right of way. Growling and honking the horn several times, the motley crew of approaching fleeters begrudgingly shifted out of the road, all whilst hurling abuse in their native languages at the black muscle car.

Jack groaned, and leaned back in his seat, slowly trundling forward and rubbing his forehead. "Fuck, this was a stupid idea."

 _ **Meanwhile, in the Secretary Ship's office...**_

"...and for that reason, ma'am, I believe it would be of significant help to the base's international community if someone from an English-speaking background taught the English language on a professional level, and if supply runs were an option for those fleeters possessing vehicles or other transportation." Chaz finished with a salute, remaining stone-faced and at full attention amongst the stacks of paperwork filling Nagato's office. After holding his salute for a moment, he dropped it, remaining braced up.

The battleship in front of him peered back at him through a pair of red-rimmed reading glasses, with an all too familiar expression of...what, distrust? Disgust? Frustration? Thoughtfulness? Irrepressible sexual urges? He had no idea. Nagato was a hard book for him to read, and it didn't help Chaz's metaphor that he had once successfully fucked up a mass-reading of The Very Hungry Caterpillar to the barracks, receiving a considerable amount of shit for it.

Sometimes he wondered if he ever learned how to read. It wasn't on the training for any of the Royal Navy fleeters. Maybe they were just _meant_ to know how to read? He knew Jack could read. Kind of.

Maybe he learned to read by browsing /k/ and posting pictures of his Webley revolver that could sink a battleship, much to the anger of the site's average human posters.

Momentarily, Chaz wondered if he could pass 4chan's /int/ board off as a language-learning program, before Nagato cleared her throat and licked her lips slightly. "It's..." she began. "...an interesting proposition. Though I will tell you now, many of the international fleets already speak English as a second or first language. Additionally, you seem to have missed one key point." Nagato removed her glasses, and looked up at him, cupping her elbow with her hand and rubbing her chin. "You're not fluent in several dozen languages."

The Cruiser swallowed, and straightened up. "Respectfully, ma'am-"

"There's no need to refer to me as 'ma'am'. It makes me sound older than I am." Chaz looked confused for a moment, prompting Nagato to sigh gently with her ever-present glare. "Just refer to me as Secretary." The fleet boy in front of her nodded.

"R-Right you are...Secretary." Momentarily, Chaz shifted his collar. Was it hot in there? He was sweating. God, Nagato's gaze was discouraging him by the second. "As I was about to say, I'm actually fluent in English, Gaelic, Celtic, Norwegian, Turkish, Chechen, Israeli, Hawaiian, Cockney rhyming slang, Japanese, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Russian, Polish, Swedish, Klingon, Danish, most African dialects, Mandarin, Arabic, and most of the commonly used languages in the Middle East. I believe I would be able to handle such a teaching job."

Rather than the response he had expected, Nagato stared at him blankly. "...one might wonder why you're fluent in so many languages...even Chechen and...Gain-Lick?"

"Gaelic, Secretary," Chaz corrected. "It's traditional Welsh." His commanding officer gave an understanding nod, before inhaling and sighing.

"Well...if that's the case, I can't see a problem with such a language course being created," she said finally. "However, it does confuse me that you expect to single-handedly teach potentially hundreds or thousands of internationals the English language. That would take a considerable period, considering the amount of times you would be required to go over the material in native languages." After a pause, Nagato tapped her pen on the desk, and grabbed a post-it note. "I'll make a note to send out a request for more KanMusu willing to aid you. Just don't expect anything impressive; I've been rather disappointed with the number of applications for jobs that have sprung up around the district since its expansion." Chaz quietly nodded.

"Understood. I appreciate the help, ma..." He paused, as Nagato flicked her eyes up to him. "... _Secretary Ship Nagato_..." The battleship just shook her head, finished the note, and stuck it to the side of her pencil pot, before clicking her pen and looking up at Chaz again.

"Is there anything else you might suggest for the operation of this facility?" she asked, raising a brow. Chaz thought for a moment, and cleared his throat.

"Y-Yes, there is," he began, "Major London suggested last night that Fleeters with cars or other transportation should be allowed to carry out supply runs to and from nearby towns and cities, as well as around the district. He thinks it would aid with morale if Fleeters with vehicles were able to take orders from others, before making their way to a place that stocks it and then returning." As he spoke, he noticed Nagato exhaling and rubbing her face with both hands, and he began to trail off. "That way, delivery drivers wouldn't need to enter the base...and...and stuff..."

Silence fell across the room.

After a moment of deafening quiet, Nagato stood, and began pacing behind her desk. "Major Sussex, there is a specific reason that I feel Fleet Boys, such as yourself and Major London, should be kept out of service, and the public eye." She cast her hard gaze towards Chaz once again. The British Fleet Boy swallowed hard. "Would you care to guess that reason?"

"Uh..." Chaz thought hard for a moment. "...is it because we use antiquated methods, Secretary Ship?"

"Correct. What Major London suggested is one such method. Delivery trucks come and go through this base all the time. This district is on a popular trade route between the United States and Japan, so anything ordered from Japan is swiftly dropped off here whilst it is on its way to a shipyard, and anything ordered from the United States is dropped off here on its way to Japanese packing companies. Not only that, but I have my doubts that a courier service is all Major London intends to run into this base." Frowning, Nagato gazed out of the window at the black muscle car slowly advancing through crowds of Fleeters, with its green-shirted driver leaning out the window and yelling rather shocking obscenities back towards those who shouted at him.

Chaz shifted. "If I may ask, what do you think he's planning to do outside of a courier service?" After a hesitation, his commanding officer glanced over her shoulder at Chaz, hands behind her back.

"Nothing that he can hide," she said finally, returning to her desk to note down the suggestion. "After all, he's several decades out of date. We could bring him down if need be, and the same applies to you, Major Sussex. Know your place, and we'll get along fine." Chaz frowned at her, then nodded.

"Understood..." he muttered. Nagato sniffed at his comment, leaned on her desk, and furrowed her brow.

"Is there a problem, _Major_?"

"No...but I'm wondering why you're threatening me with elimination, Secretary."

"I'm not issuing a threat of any kind. I just have a severe dislike for being sent outdated equipment with outdated views, and outdated methods."

"Have you ever heard the Kalashnikov VS. M16 debate, Secretary?" Chaz asked flatly. The woman thought for a moment, then shook her head, not dropping eye contact. "It was an argument between the users of two platforms of rifle: The Soviet AK-47, and American M16. The former was an old design, with only eight moving parts. The latter was newer, with more parts to it. When they were pitted against each other in another of America's failed wars, the M16 just couldn't handle the brutal conditions of real warfare, jamming at the slightest knock and suffering in harsh terrains, whilst the AK-47 relished the mud and rain, slaughtering Americans left and right without stopping, jamming, or overheating." Chaz paused, and smirked at Nagato, who narrowed her eyes. "I'd say it would go the same way with you Fleet Girls against us Fleet Boys."

"Are you trying to suggest that we're not suited to fighting?" Nagato asked sharply.

"I'm just suggesting that none of you have fought a real war," Chaz replied casually. "You're only on the seas these days; We Fleet Boys had the pleasure of fighting the earlier mutations of Abyssals on land, too." Nagato stroked her chin.

"Such Abyssals no longer exist. They've been driven out to sea, and learned to stay there. That's the reason KanMusu exist: To stop them from coming near land."

"And if they get past?"

Nagato froze.

"Excuse me?"

"What happens when they get past? Nobody on this base is invincible. If the Abyssals were to massacre the defence force and get into this base - onto _land_ \- what will happen then?"

"They...won't."

"But they could. They constantly evolve. They're creatures that constantly adapt to kill. All they'd need to do is find out the weaknesses of ship classes and they win."

The secretary ship gazed at Chaz in absolute disbelief. Why was he suggesting that the very force he fought with was inadequate? There had to have been some ulterior motive in the way he was speaking.

"They won't come within even five nautical miles, Major, and that's a fact," she snapped, leaning onto her desk to glare at him. "But should I so much as _suspect_ that you're spreading seeds of doubt amongst this naval district, then so help me, I'll have you strapped to a pole and used as a punching bag in the battleship-class gym for the rest of the year. Are we clear?" Chaz made a _'pfft'_ noise.

"Clear enough, _ma'am_." With that, he saluted with a shit-eating grin, and marched out of the room, leaving Nagato glaring at the door he left through with a red face and elevated pulse. After a moment of silence throughout the office, she sighed, and sank down into her chair, rubbing her forehead.

Was that worth a court martialling?

Oh, for God's sake, she didn't know. She was tired, and had more paperwork than she had effort to finish.

She closed her eyes.

She wanted a coffee.

 _ **Meanwhile, across the drill square...**_

As usual, Jack was yelling at foreigners.

They just wouldn't move out the bloody way; Most of them just carried on shuffling along from either the pier they'd docked at, or through the gates. And whichever way they came from?

You guessed it, they were in the fucking way.

Again, Jack growled and slammed his palm against the steering wheel, letting off another loud beep at the group of fleet girls that were slowly walking along in front of him. He also accompanied this by leaning out of his window, cigarette between his teeth. " _ **MOVE OUT THE WAY, YOU USELESS FUCKING WANKSTAINS!**_ " he yelled, still honking the horn. " _ **I'VE GOT PLACES TO BE!**_ " Angrily, the girls stopped, and turned to face him, all glaring at him. The seeming leader of them, a young-looking Sergeant who appeared to have the body of a fifteen year old, took the opportunity to march straight up to the driver's side door of Jack's car, gritting her teeth.

"What did you just address me as?!" she yelled, leaning into the car. Jack narrowed his eyes back at her.

"Oh, not clear enough for you, _Sergeant_?" he retorted sharply, stressing her rank. "I was hitting you with my opinions! So tell your ladies to shift their arses out of the way. I have business to attend to." The girl looked at him in disbelief.

"You think you've got some _power_ over me?" she snarled. "I'm a Sergeant in the United States Military, with ties to _the_ most powerful Navy in the world. Things might be done differently over in your country, including the part where they left out some brainpower when they made your fleet, but in the rest of the world? Where we've developed _beyond_ fleet boys? We show _**respect**_." Jack just laughed in her face. By now, a small portion of the crowds passing the car had stopped to watch the Sergeant ripping into the antiquated asshole in the car. A few were even recording it.

In response, Jack took his hands off the wheel, raising them in mock defense. "Well, Sergeant, I'm sorry that I forgot you're still touchy about being late for things," he said flatly. "I thought that your country 'won' World War Two in spite of showing up at the very end. Regardless, I don't have to give a shit about your rank."

"Explain yourself, before I get you court-martialled."

"Well, for one thing, I'm a _**Major**_ in the Royal Navy, which is **the** best Navy in the world." The girl stood up slightly, shock written on her face as she slowly backed off. "And the other thing is that I'm not in uniform. So going by your little ' _where I'm from_ ' speech, and my training, that means I can say _**you're**_ not supposed to address me as an Officer due to the potential threat of snipers. You're risking my life by addressing me as Sir, so you bloody well better make it worthwhile by filling it with respect." His mouth twisted into a vile grin as most of the other Fleeters that had gathered quickly moved on. "And so help me, if I hear you've not been addressing your superior officers with the correct ranks, I'll have you cleaning shit out of the toilets on curry night for the next three months. Clear enough for you, _**Sergeant**_?" The young woman stuttered out syllables, trying to figure out how best to respond, before she slowly stepped back, and struggled to raise a salute. She looked to have tears in her eyes. " _Don't_ salute me, there could be a sniper anywhere."

The girl sniffled, immediately dropped her arms behind her back and lowering her head like a beaten puppy. "Y-Y-Yes, M-Major..." Jack just grinned.

"Fantastic, that's what we were looking for!" he said cheerfully. "Mind if I ask your name, Sergeant?" Her eyes widened in terror as she thought of all the things he was going to say about her to the Admiralty.

"S-Sir...p-please don't repor-"

"I'm not gonna bloody report you!" Jack laughed. "Trust me, I never really cared about this sort of thing, I'm just having a laugh." The younger girl seemed confused as to whether she should be pissed off, or laughing. Thus, she just gave her name.

"My name is Marilyn Detroit, sir. Omaha-class cruiser Sergeant Marilyn Detroit." Jack nodded, mentally noting this.

"Alright then, Detroit. You and your ladies should probably get going." He paused, and looked in the car's mirrors at the huge line outside the Admiral's offices. "Y'know what...? In fact, Sergeant, ears up." The young girl looked at him curiously, brushing away some tears that had formed using her sleeve. "Since I held you back a bit, just head straight to the front of the queue for your accommodation details. My orders. Tell anyone who moans about it to take it up with me, and I'll yell their eardrums open. Sound good?"

Detroit stared blankly at her superior Officer, swallowed, and nodded. "Y-Yes, sir." Just as she turned to leave, Jack extended a hand to stop her.

"And Sergeant," he added, prompting her to glance at him. "No hard feelings." She kept her blank stare as he gestured to the group of girls nearby. "You've got a fine squad under you, and great leaders don't cry when confronted. You gotta learn to take a ribbing, or you're going nowhere." The girl looked absolutely bewildered as Jack began to slowly cruise away in Annabelle. His arm extended out the window with a thumbs up towards her, then converted to the usual British fare of aggressive hand gestures towards a passing cyclist. The fleeter, a woman dressed in traditional Chinese religious attire, stopped and opened her mouth to retort.

From where Detroit was standing, she could clearly make out her rather disturbing superior officer yelling. " **SHUT YOUR MOUTH, VICAR! ON YOUR** _ **BIIIKE!**_ " as the car screeched away down the main road, suddenly veering away and heading down towards the Eastern-European area of the Naval District. He was probably headed to the shop.

Detroit sighed, and rubbed her forehead.

"M-Maybe he has a point..." she groaned, turning towards her girls again. _'Why did I cry? I never cry. Am I homesick?'_

At least he was nice enough to give them a 'Skip The Line' card.


End file.
